


my best and dearest earthly hopes

by TigerKat



Series: Root and Vine [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Jealousy, john reese is not a couples counselor, oddly adorable obsessive psychopaths, seriously don't take his advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerKat/pseuds/TigerKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vine is jealous. This is new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my best and dearest earthly hopes

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by subluxate the Amazing and Awesome, whose Vine and Root fic you should all go read. [It's right here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/980689) Actually, you should read all their fics, but that one especially.

"She's _in me,"_ Root says, and her eyes are glowing; she looks happier than Vine has ever seen her. "Don't you see? She's in me. She _is_ me. Oh, Vine, isn't it wonderful?"

"Of course," Vine says absently. She would be more emphatic, but there's something in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she doesn't recognize, cold and unhappy and frightened. 

It takes her some time to realize that it's jealousy.

\--

And that is just— _ridiculous._ It's more than ridiculous, it's insane. How can she be jealous of Root? She is Root, and Root is her. They are the same person. How can she be jealous of herself? 

Root is talking to her Machine, voice animated, eyes bright. Vine can only hear Root's side of the conversation—something about methods, about work.

Vine rises abruptly, takes her gun, and leaves.

She doesn't think Root even notices.

\--

She has chosen this particular shooting range for its anonymity, 24-hour operation, and total lack of interest in its customers. It isn't a surprise that she's not alone in the booths. There are usually a few Mafia men, a few hitters, lots of drug dealers, and one or two garden-variety thugs. She isn’t afraid of them; they know a big shark when they see one. They scatter when she comes in.

John Reese does not.

He doesn't know her, one small blessing. It seems her little venture into his pocket totally escaped his notice, although she's sure Finch enlightened him as to the theft. He gives her barely a glance before he returns to his own work—kneecap, kneecap, kneecap, one target after another. She admires the precision, if not the thought.

Vine considers turning tail. She knows what he's capable of, and she cannot feel Root's comforting gaze. Root is not watching her. Root is not protecting her. Her breath catches in her throat, her chest tightening.

But running would only draw attention to her and make it dangerous for her to come back here. 

She makes herself keep going.

\--

She's fired six shots—two each to head, throat, and chest—when Reese glances over again. This time, he looks impressed. "Nice shooting."

"Thank you," she says, pulling one side of the headphones off her ear. "Same to you." 

He nods in acceptance, pauses, and then says, "This is none of my business, but are you all right?"

Vine gives him a sharp look, but sees nothing beyond innocent concern in his face—and he is _not_ good at hiding his emotions. How he made it as a spy, she'll never know. 

She should blow him off, walk away. John Reese is _dangerous._

On impulse, she says, "No. Not at all."

"You want to talk about it?" he asks, and of course she does. She told him the truth, didn't she?

\--

They end up in an all-night coffee joint about a block down. It's got about the same customer base as the shooting range, and, since Vine's been here before, they have the same reaction to her. Reese probably thinks it's his vague air of menace, which she finds almost adorable. 

He buys her coffee, which is definitely adorable.

"So," he says, setting it before her and sitting down across the table. "What's the problem?"

"It's my girlfriend, Amy," Vine says, and slips into Laurel Deily's skin. "She's... it's weird. She's met this girl and... it's not an affair. Not really."

Reese looks sympathetic. "You think she's in love with this other girl?"

Is that it? Laurel blinks, wide-eyed. "I... maybe? It's a new relationship for her. I know she's really invested."

"You think she'll leave you?"

Vine finds that remark interesting, perhaps indicative of a similar trauma in Reese's past. Something to remember for future research. Laurel, though, she only hears the words. "No. No, I don't think it's that kind of relationship. I hope not, anyway. And I don't want her to give it up, either. I mean, it makes her so happy. I just feel left out, like she's found someone who's.... who's more important to her than I am."

And that, unexpectedly, is more truth than Vine has spoken to anyone who isn't Root since... since Hanna died, because it is Vine speaking, all of a sudden, and it's Vine who's blinking back tears.

"Can you tell her that?" Reese asks. "I mean, if I loved somebody..." His voice catches suddenly. He recovers fast, but Vine heard it there. "If I loved somebody, and they were feeling like this, I'd want to know."

"I'm afraid she'll laugh at me," Laurel says. Vine thinks that Root would never laugh at her, but she might—oh, she might just not understand. Worse, she might think she has to make a choice.

Vine never wants Root to have to make that choice. She never wants to see anything like anguish in those lovely eyes.

"She won't," Reese says. There's a rock-solid certainty in his voice that Laurel wouldn't dare question and Vine doesn't bother with. "Just tell her the truth."

"That I don't like her new friend," Laurel says, flatly.

He shakes his head. "That you love her, and you don't want to lose her. There aren't many people who wouldn't want to hear that."

And from the sad little quirk of his mouth, he thinks he knows one. How interesting. Vine files this too away for further discussion with Root later. 

"Okay," Laurel says, uncertain, and cups her hands around her coffee, letting the warmth penetrate. "Okay. I'll... I'll talk to her."

Reese smiles, unexpectedly, and Laurel is enchanted. Even Vine finds it charming. "I think you're making the right choice."

"I hope I am," she says. "I really hope I am."

\--

Root is waiting when she gets home, worry writ large on her face. _"Vine,"_ she says, and takes two fast steps, touches Vine's face and neck and shoulders with quick, light strokes. "I saw him, I saw the two of you—are you all right? Did he hurt you? Did he—" Fear again, chasing itself across Root's features. "Does he know about you? Did he threaten you?"

Apparently Reese was right. The strange knot in Vine's stomach dissolves as if it had never been. "No, no," she says, and kisses Root, butterfly-light. "No, darling, don't worry. He doesn't know anything. He met Laurel, that's all."

"Then why did he talk to you so long?" Root sounds only curious now, but she doesn't stop touching Vine. 

Vine shrugs. "Laurel needed some advice. She was afraid—" and how odd, her own voice has caught the same way as Reese's did. "She was afraid Amy was going to leave her."

Root's face softens, and one of her hands comes to rest on Vine's cheek. "Amy could never leave her," she says. "I hope she knows that."

"I think," Vine says, choosing her words with the greatest of care, "Laurel is afraid that Amy won't need her anymore." 

Root inhales, just a bit, then cups the back of Vine's neck and kisses her, open-mouthed, passionate. "Never," she says, a hair from Vine's mouth. "Never, ever. None of this will ever be worth anything without you."

They've abandoned that little pretense, then. Vine twines her fingers in Root's soft hair and kisses her back, fierce.

From their front door, it is twenty-seven steps to their bed. Vine counted once for security reasons—how long it will take an attacker to reach them, how quickly they will have to escape—it seemed adequate then but now it's too far. Root is everywhere, quick and clever fingers, lips and tongue hot and urgent.

They have been apart too long. Vine has forgotten the precise curve of Root's hip; she relearns it now, on her knees at the side of the bed, biting gently at Root's thighs. Root leaves her own marks, red patches sucked into Vine's breasts and belly. They cling to each other, trading kisses.

Root pulls her down, straddles her and pauses, tossing her hair out of her face; she looks down at Vine seriously and that is the wrong expression. "If you want me to give her up..."

 _"No,"_ Vine says, and drags her down for a kiss. "No. No. This is what you've always wanted."

"I want _you,"_ Root hisses. She bites Vine's earlobe, hard enough to sting. "You're _mine._ You're _me."_

"Mine," Vine repeats, tangling her hands in Root's hair, pulling her back when she moved to sit up again. _"Mine."_

You can't have a Vine without a Root. She remembers that with every beat of her heart. But—and she'd forgotten this—you can't have a Root without a Vine, either. They wind so close together that they can't be taken apart, not without killing them both.

She'll never let that happen. 

Vine winds closer around Root. She'll never, ever let that happen.

\--

"She's partly for you," Root says, stroking through Vine's hair as she lies with her head on her partner's thighs. "The Machine. She'll help you too."

Vine shakes her head. "It doesn't matter, Root."

"Yes, it does." She pauses, and Vine slits her eyes open, watches the expressions chase each other. "I can find them for you so much faster with her. The bad code—" She makes a little face. "Your weeds. Don't you see?"

Root looks so intent. Vine opens her eyes fully. "I do," she says, slowly. "With the Machine... we can take the world apart, can't we?"

"We can burn it down," Root agrees. She bends down, leaves tiny kisses along the scars on Vine's neck. It's the only touch Vine can tolerate there, the press of Root's mouth, the flick of her tongue. "She's part of us now, Vine. You and I. We'll burn it all down, start again." 

_"Yes,"_ Vine says, and pulls Root down to her. "You and I. Grafted plants."

Root giggles. "Networked devices."

"Trees grown together." Vine tucks her chin over Root's shoulder and slides a leg between hers.

"Cloned phones." Root slides her weight to the side and hooks her hand around Vine's arm. "You won't ever leave me, will you?"

"Never," Vine says. "Never, ever."


End file.
